


Stubborn Love

by look_up_at_the_stars (ravenditefairylights)



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gryffindor Archie Andrews, Hufflepuff Betty Cooper, Hufflepuff Ethel Muggs, Hufflepuff Kevin Keller, M/M, Mechanic Betty Cooper, Mutual Pining, Not Beta Read, One Shot, POV Jughead Jones, Pining, Ravenclaw Jughead Jones, Slow Burn, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, although its third person pov, but minor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 05:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19125550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenditefairylights/pseuds/look_up_at_the_stars
Summary: Jughead was pretty sure he was hallucinating. With the amount of sun he had endured, it was very possible; in fact, Jughead was convinced of it when he saw Betty Cooper, Hufflepuff Prefect, Honors Student and top of pretty much all of Hogwarts’ classes, appear in front of him in short grease-stained coveralls and a red bow accompanying her signature blonde ponytail.As if he hadn’t been thinking about Betty Cooper enough as it was.





	Stubborn Love

Summertime did not agree with Jughead Jones.

When the temperature was _this_ close to reaching 104 degrees Fahrenheit and the winds had packed their bags and abandoned the beaches of Long Island to melt on their own sticky sand, it was increasingly hard to maintain the brooding biker image. For one, wearing his signature leather jacket felt like suicide at this point. He had long since discarded his plaid shirt as well as his actual shirt and was now in only a white undershirt that clung to him like a second skin, the sweat trickling down his torso, his forehead and into his eyes. He would have discarded his crown beanie as well—thrown it onto the bike he was pushing along the road under the scorching midday summer heat—but right now it was the last barrier between his head and the sun, and he wasn’t willing to risk it, even if he was pretty sure the current state of his unruly black curls qualified for post-shower wet hair.

He was regretting the long black jeans now, and oh god…the combat boots had been a mistake in every sense of the word; his feet felt like they were on fire. His phone had died a few miles back, leaving him with a vague impression of where the auto shop was supposed to be—not far, but _dear god_ it wasn’t getting any closer—and not for the first time Jughead cursed the stupid ban for underage magic.

“What’s the point,” he grumbled under his breath, “of being a wizard if I have to melt away to nothingness under the scorching bleeding sun?”

August was officially his least favorite month now.

And he wasn’t going to be driving away into any more spontaneous rides to Long Island _ever_ again. Or at least, for the next three weeks it’d take him to forget the feel of hot sweat trickling down every part of his skin, and not without dragging Sweet Pea to come suffer with him.  He rolled his bike into town, and he couldn’t begrudge the lady that gripped her baby daughter’s hand tighter and walked a little faster; if he was faced with himself right now he would have probably run away too, if only to escape the sweat.

Down the street, black capital letters formed the words “AUTO SHOP – COOPER” and despite his lack of faith in higher powers, Jughead mutely expressed his gratitude to anyone who cared enough to listen. Right now, he would debate giving up _burgers_ for the entrance of the small garage to come closer. He had to lean on his bike when he stopped to keep his balance; he hadn’t realized it, but he had most probably been running on adrenaline and sheer force of will for the last—was it four miles?

“Hello?” he called, using his last bit of strength to roll the Harley into the garage. “Is anyone here? Please, let there be someone,” he muttered under his breath.

“I’m back here!” a feminine voice that sounded vaguely familiar called back, and Jughead leaned back into his bike, trying to catch his breath and stay on his feet. “How can I—oh my god, are you alright?”

Jughead was pretty sure he was hallucinating. With the amount of sun he had endured, it was very possible; in fact, Jughead was convinced of it when he saw Betty Cooper, Hufflepuff Prefect, Honors Student and top of pretty much all of Hogwarts’ classes, appear in front of him in short grease-stained coveralls and a red bow accompanying her signature blonde ponytail.

As if he hadn’t been thinking about Betty Cooper enough as it was. 

“Jughead?” It was her voice, but it wasn’t supposed to be—he was more than certain that she lived in Manhattan with her mother, _not_ an auto shop in Long Island; in the middle of nowhere, if he was being honest. “Hey, look at me,” she snapped her fingers in front of his face, and he pinched himself in the arm to make sure she was real.

She was still standing in front of him, ponytail and all, her brows furrowed together with genuine concern flashing in the green of her eyes. He noticed she had some grease on the side of her forehead and her cheek. He forced himself not to look down at the rest of her—these ridiculously long legs that were uncovered—and so focused instead on the stain of grease right under her eye, which seemed like the most harmless; and quite possibly the safest choice at the moment. He could smell her strawberry perfume, and if his head wasn’t already spinning with dizziness, he might have blamed that particular condition on it. He might have forgotten to breathe, for a second.

Yeah, she was real, alright.

“Hey, Cooper,” his voice sounded breathy even to his own ears. “You wouldn’t happen to have a glass of water lying around now, would you?”

“Water…oh gosh, yes, of course!” Betty’s eyes widened, and she disappeared from his view for a moment, appearing again just as fast, with a glass of water in her hands. “Here.”

He practically inhaled the whole thing—semi-consciously surprised that he didn’t choke on it—and he could feel a bit of life returning to him, as the brain cells that had been scorched kicked into motion once again. “Thanks—” his voice was raspy, and he coughed and tried again. “Thank you.”

“You look awful, Jughead Jones,” she announced with the small smile, but some concern still shadowed her eyes. Betty Cooper was too good a person for this world.

“I just walked what was quite possibly three or four miles in this heat,” he pointed vaguely around them, “all the while pushing my traitorous bike to the nearest auto shop,” he replied. “I blame the heat and maybe some minor dehydration for my current state of being.”

“Hold up, I’ll get you a chair,” Betty offered, and before he could protest she’d ducked somewhere and produced a chair and setting it down next to him. Jughead collapsed on it unceremoniously, and hoped his gratitude showed on his face. “Do you need me to take a look at your bike?”

“That’s sort of why I’m here,” Jughead said breathlessly, pushing his body for deep breaths as he felt his sudden dizziness subside. “But I have to say, you’re the very last person I expected to do the job.”

“It’s my dad’s garage,” Betty smiled proudly. “He owns it, and when I stay with him I help around. Well, right now, the only staff not on holiday is me, so I’m sort of keeping it open these days. Dad’s in the back, fixing the air conditioning.”

“Good to know,” Jughead nodded. “You come to stay with your dad often?” he asked, guessing her parents were divorced and deciding not to pursue the details.

“Not as often as I’d like,” Betty’s smile was dampened by a frown, but as soon it was gone. “But enough of that! I have to admit, you were the very last person I expected to see here today,” she said, mirroring his earlier words.

“I make bad life choices,” Jughead replied. “Do you happen to have a bucket of cold water I can dump on me?”

Betty’s response was a bright smile and another short-lasting search that produced a blue bucket whose color was a victim of the time’s passing. “Ready?” He had barely any time to nod before Betty thrust the bucket forward and doused him in ice cold water. The cold was a shock, undoubtedly, and it pierced his sense cords all the way down to his bones, but it did a good job at snapping him out of whatever daze he had been in.

“Sheesh,” he muttered, detaching the crown beanie and running his hands through his hair that were now dripping wet. “Were you hiding that in a refrigerator or something?”

Betty’s grin widened. “Why do you make bad life choices?”

“In the philosophical sense, or as in an inquiry to tell you what I’m doing here?”

“An inquiry,” Betty said seriously, sitting back on his heels and crossing her arms over her chest loosely. Ah, so she meant business.

“I had the stupid idea to drive out to Long Island, but my bike betrayed me halfway through,” he answered, sighing at the memory. “I’m never going anywhere again without dragging Sweet Pea with me.”

Betty laughed. “Well, it brought you here, so despite the hardships you endured, I can’t really complain, Jug.”

 _Jug._ The nickname was new. He and Betty Cooper had exchanged, oh, three conversations back in his first and second year, when he had still been friends with Archie and the Quidditch players had yet to figure out how to pick fights with the Serpents. Girls like Betty Cooper; with bright eyes and sunset dresses, with smiles like the sun and a kindness he had only read about in fairytales, just didn’t hang out with Jughead’s crowd. Oh no, not at all.

She had pastel colors.

And sunflowers.

And smiles wherever she went.

And all he had was a legacy of broken beer bottles. He was Jughead—

Forsythe.

Pendleton.

Jones the third.

He had broken knuckles and bittersweet disappointment and a lack of faith in miracles; except, perhaps, for the fact that he was still alive. For once in his life, he decided not to complain at the sudden unlikely miracle he had been graced with.

“Well, now that I’ve met my hostess _and_ mechanic, I can’t really complain either,” he grinned, something lurching in his stomach as Betty shyly grinned back.

And that was that.

* * *

“So, you said you write.”

It was the start.

Jughead had been half surprised, half relieved when Betty found him again on their third day into the new school year at Hogwarts—their sixth one. As amazing as hanging out with Betty had been during the summer, he was afraid that this—as all good things that accidently stumbled into his life before realizing they had taken a wrong turn and promptly reeved back and left—would have ended once they were both at Hogwarts again.

Betty Cooper, the without-a-doubt next Head Girl, would have realized that her busy life of functional friends, school dances and student tutoring didn’t have enough space for him; Jughead Jones, Serpent Prince, and on the exact opposite pole of her world.

But Betty Cooper was never anything short of marvelous and miraculous, and after he spent the first days back avoiding her, she cornered him on the library; hands on her hips, jaw set and a glare worthy of Ice Queen Veronica Lodge—her best friend. In all her anger-induced glory, she was as beautiful as he had ever seen her, and Jughead might have forgotten to breathe for a second there.

 _“You’ve been avoiding me.”_ She’d said it like an accusation, and Jughead could only apologize and do his best to bring back that radiant smile on her face. In a very short amount of time, she had him promising to write on the school’s newspaper—the Blue and Gold—with her, and once he realized what sort of hole he’d dug himself in, he mastered the best of brides and begged Toni and Secrets for their help.

The Blue and Gold staff had now expanded from Hufflepuff prefects Betty Cooper and Kevin Keller, the occasional helper-author Ethel Muggs—when Betty could persuade her fellow housemate to help them out—and ambitious editor-in-chief Slytherin Tomoko Yoshida, to the unlikely additions of three Southside Serpents; Ravenclaw loner Jughead Jones, his talented photographer housemate Toni Topaz, and Secrets DeSantos, who despite being a known troublemaker earned Tomoko’s respect with her Slytherin traits, so similar to that of the other girl’s.

It was the start.

* * *

"I'm not complaining," Kevin complained loudly, and Jughead had to stifle a sigh as his eyes unwillingly looked up from the screen of his laptop to the boy on one of the other desks. "I'm just...putting forth some insight."

"It's not appreciated," Ethel glared in response, her arms firmly crossed over her chest and her cheeks looking more similar to her soft ginger hair than ever.

"Look, Ethel, I realize this is your article," Kevin was saying, "and I'd love to publish it, I really do, but we can't throw out my column for it."

"Why not?" Ethel demanded, her voice turning into a whine, but only barely. "It'll be an one-time thing."

Jughead debated telling her himself, since it seemed no one else was going to, but—unsurprisingly on a second reflection—Secrets beat him to it.

"Because the gossip column assures at least a fair sixty percent of our reading audience, while the dehumanizing practices of decomposing dead insects will _lose_ us sixty percent of the readers," her tone was exasperated but firm, accompanied with an apologetic look.

"It's interesting," Ethel defended quietly, but her eyes were downcast, and her cheeks flushed for a whole different reason.

"Yeah, for Jughead, maybe," Secrets rolled her eyes, and the man in question decided to take matters into his own hands.

"Well, personally I _do_ find it interesting," he admitted, with much more conviction than he felt. "But Kevin's right, Ethel, we can't throw away his column to fit it, even for only one time. We can, however, promise to publish it on the next paper."

"You always say that," Ethel muttered angrily.

"I'll personally bring it up with Tomoko," Secrets said, holding up a hand, palm flat. "Serpent's honor."

"Doesn't count if you don't have any," Ethel bit back, and Jughead saw the snapping remark on the tip of Secrets' tongue, but before either her or him could say anything about it, Betty did; as she came back inside the room with an armful of coffees.

"Ethel," she said sternly. "Be _nice_. The Serpents aren't as bad as they're made out to be."

“Thank you,” Jughead mouthed as he caught her eye, and she smiled at him as she set the coffees down on one of the desks. The distrust, dislike and borderline hatred most students harbored for the Southside Serpents was something he supposed he had gotten used to but had never taken lying down. After all, not all purebloods had the Blossoms’ privilege of fancy castle houses and more money than Beyoncé’s bank account.

“I have…two cappuccinos, one plain coffee with more sugar than Charlie’s chocolate factory, a latte, a tea and one bitter black,” Betty informed them brightly, handing the tea to Ethel and one of the cappuccinos to Kevin, who was closer. “Where’s Tomoko and Toni?”

“Not here,” Secrets replied unhelpfully, using one hand to tie her black loose curls in a messy ban at the top of her head and stabilize it with a pencil. Jughead had never understood what magic she used to make this possible. “I think Toni might be flirting with Cheryl again.”

“Cheryl _is_ growing a bit fond of her,” Betty admitted, handing Secrets the latte. “But that’s strictly cousin-confidential. If she knew I told you, she’d kill me.”

“Or growing tired of her,” Jughead pointed out, accepting the black coffee from Betty with a grateful smile. “Thanks.”

“Don’t be mean, Juggie,” Betty chastised with no real heat. “You’re supposed to be supporting your best friend. Leave that one for Tomoko, Kev, she’ll come around,” she pointed at the last coffee—the atrocity, really, of the last black coffee with enough sugar in it to drown the Vatican.

“I’m being realistic,” Jughead argued. “It’s not my fault Toni decided to crush on the biggest bitch of Hogwarts—and possibly the rest of society.”

“Now you’re just being unfair,” Betty complained. “Cheryl is plenty nice when she wants to be.”

“Which is practically never,” Kevin muttered, and Betty looked over her shoulder to scowl at him.

“I, for one, can’t blame her,” Secrets said decisively. “Toni, that is,” she clarified. “The mean bitch persona can be plenty appealing.” Jughead coughed pointedly. “¡Oh, _cállate_!” Secrets sent a glare his way.

“Cala-what?” Kevin frowned.

“It means shut up,” Jughead translated, years and years of hanging around Secrets enough to enrich his vocabulary; even though he was absolutely hopeless when she started stringing full sentences in Spanish—usually speaking fast and more often than not furiously. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.”

“Especially if my brother keeps dropping by,” Secrets smirked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively at Kevin, who, in his defense, did his best to hide the blush that spread across his cheeks.

“He’s just interested in the newspaper,” Kevin defended weakly, turning for a half-hearted scowl at Jughead when he snorted; in all his six years of attendance in Hogwarts, Joaquin had never passed _in front_ of the Blue and Gold’s office, much less get inside and strike up conversations with the students who worked there, as he had been doing practically every day for the last month.

“Oh, interested certainly,” Secrets replied, smirk in place. “ _Muo_ —very, _very_ interested, but not at the newspaper, _gustado_.”

Kevin flushed scarlet and, with a mumbled comment that wasn’t audible, focused back at the computer screen he had been previously working on. Jughead was prepared to do the same, but then Betty hopped up on the desk in front of him, settling herself comfortably at the empty surface. It took a lot of effort on Jughead’s part to keep his eyes trained on her face and _not_ wander lower to the legs on the desk. Breathing, admittedly, wasn’t the first thing on his mind, but he forced the air down his lungs.

“Do you think they are…” Betty trailed off and let him fill in the rest of the sentence in his mind. Jughead swallowed before he answered, wanting to make sure his voice came out normal.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “It’s none of my business.” Joaquin hadn’t said anything, and Jughead, in turn, hadn’t asked and had shut down all of Sweet Pea’s snide—even if good-intentioned—comments. He knew that if, and when Joaquin wanted to tell them, tell _him_ , he would.

Betty pursued her lips. “Kevin had a very hard time after what happened with Moose,” she said quietly, only for him to hear, falsely convinced he knew what she was talking about. He didn’t correct her. “I just don’t want him getting hurt.”

“I could say the same thing about Joaquin,” Jughead murmured in reply, quirking a teasing smile to hide the genuine concern behind his words. Betty understood, though. She always did.

“Hey, Jug?” she asked, and all of a sudden, she sounded shy, using her fingers to fiddle with the end of her skirt— _not_ that Jughead was looking. Absolutely not looking. “Veronica has been on my case since last year, trying to convince me to try out for Quidditch. Do you…well, you know how tryouts work and I was wondering—”

“If I could help you?” Jughead finished for her. Betty nodded, biting down on her lip as if her life depended on it. There was a steady blush covering her cheeks, but her stare did not once waver; apple green eyes locked with his own dark blue ones. “I thought you’d have already asked Archie,” Jughead said, only a tad bitter that he hoped didn’t show. “Or Kevin, you know, or Veronica, or Cheryl, or—”

“I don’t want to ask _them_ ,” Betty cut off with a sudden jolt of confidence in her words. “Cheryl offered, and she means well, but I would rather eat my shoe than have her coach me. And Veronica and Kevin _did_ show me some things, but I hoped…I hoped we could spend some more time together.”

It was everything Jughead wanted to hear, honestly. 

“What about Archie?”

But apparently, he wasn’t yet willing to let go of this one yet; he thought it was warranted a little. Archie had been his best friend since childhood, and then one day he made it to the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and suddenly he didn’t have time to spend with Jughead—didn’t want to spend time with Jughead until they stopped talking altogether, just some time before he officially joined the Serpents. And well, Betty’s old crush at Gryffindor sweetheart and Quidditch player Archie Andrews had been a public secret; to everyone but Archie, that was.

“I don’t want Archie to help me,” Betty said, her confidence unwavering, eyes so green Jughead could get lost in them as if they were a whole forest. A forest of regrets. “I want _you_ to help me.”

And Jughead was sold.

Just like that.

* * *

“Why did you never tell me you could fly like that?” Jughead demanded once they stopped the official practice and flew down to the bleachers, sweaty and out of breath, with huge smiles on both their faces.

“I didn’t really know I could,” Betty said with a shy grin. “Do you think I’m good?”

“Good?” Jughead couldn’t believe his ears. “ _Good_? Betty, you are _amazing_.” She flushed, but Jughead wasn’t having any of her protests. “You’re fucking brilliant is what you are. _Fan-ta-stic_. Magnificent.” He wasn’t talking about Quidditch anymore, but Betty didn’t need to know that.

“You’re exaggerating,” Betty shook her head, but she couldn’t clench her grin at the praise. She looked so beautiful, even with the messy ponytail and in her Quidditch uniform, that Jughead had to consciously remind himself to breathe.

“I doubt Archie could ever fly like that—or anyone else for that matter,” he continued. “I know for a fact that Toni can kick my ass at Quidditch, but you might just give her a run for her money.”

“Stop it,” Betty swatted his arm playfully. “You don’t have to lie.”

“I’m not lying, Betts,” Jughead said, grabbing hold of the hand that had found its mark just below his shoulder. “I’m one hundred percent serious. Look at me, Betty,” he insisted when she averted her eyes. “You are amazing. Absolutely amazing at flying, and at Quidditch, and there’s no way you aren’t going to make the team. You, Betty Cooper, are the most amazing flyer I’ve ever met.”

He held her gaze intently, trying to convey all the wonder he had for Betty Cooper through his eyes, trying to get her to see what he saw, out of sheer force of will. After all, he did have a lot of that—he had stubbornness and force of will to spare. Betty bit her lip, her cheeks blooming with a faint pink color that was getting redder, but she didn’t avert her eyes this time. She kept them on his, wide and trusting and Jughead wanted nothing more than to kiss those lingering doubts away.

“Really?” It was a little bit more than a whisper.

“Really. Definitely. Absolutely,” Jughead said without a trace of hesitation in his voice. He told himself he was keeping his eyes on Betty’s because he wanted to make sure she understood how serious he was, and not because he couldn’t look away. Betty apparently could, if the way she did after a few more moments was any indication.

“So, you think I have a chance to get into the team?” she asked, letting her dazzling smile wipe away any traces of awkwardness in the air.

“More chances than I had when I was trying out for the Southside Serpents’ school Quidditch team,” Jughead replied truthfully. Betty’s smile widened.

She didn’t let his hand go until they were back inside the castle, and Jughead didn’t mention it.

* * *

“I did it, Juggie, I made the team!”

The blonde bundle of excitement assaulted him just outside the greenhouses. Her strawberry perfume and signature ponytail betrayed her as Betty, and even though he had barely enough time to glance at her before she lunged at him—almost making him lose his balance and tumble backwards as her arms wrapped around his neck—he did not think there would ever be a time when he couldn’t recognize Betty Cooper. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Sweet Pea slip away with a wink, but the armful of an excited Betty felt too good to let his smile drop and send him a glare.

“Didn’t I tell you you’d make it?” Jughead teased, moving his arms to hug her waist as Betty only squeezed him tighter in response. “Congratulations, Betts. I’m so happy for you.”

“I wanted you to be there, but Adam scheduled the tryouts the same time as your detention, and I tried to get him to change them, but he wouldn’t!” Betty whined, pulling back a little to look at him. “And I didn’t want to tell you because then you might have done something completely stupid like ditch detention to come watch my tryouts and I didn’t want you to get into trouble for me.”

“You thought I would have ditched detention to come and cheer you on?” Jughead teased, unable to hide the smirk breaking over his face.

Betty flushed, tensing in his arms that were still around her. “Well, I—”

“I would have,” Jughead cut her off solemnly. “I would have gladly ditched most things to come watch your tryouts and cheer you on. You should have told me.” Here Betty looked a little guilty. “But it seems you did just fine without my help.”

Betty’s smile returned full-force at the reminder. “I wouldn’t have done it without your help,” she told him, stepping out of his arms, and Jughead felt the loss of her warmth with a sinking feeling of acute disappointment he pushed down savagely.

“I beg to differ, Hufflepuff chaser,” Jughead grinned. “You would have made it into the team either way. You’re the strongest person I know, and there’s nothing you can’t achieve on your own when you put your mind to it.”

For a long moment, Betty only looked at him. She was biting her lip, and even though her brows weren’t furrowed, her eyes were shadowed with thoughts. She didn’t look like she wanted to run, which Jughead considered a large plus, as well as the fact that she was standing still a little too close—only a step or so away—but Jughead knew Betty Cooper was a professional overthinker, and that worried him, just a little bit.

“What is it?” he asked, shifting his weight from one foot to another nervously.

“Your eyes are so blue,” Betty said, and then immediately clapped a hand over her mouth, looking horrified.

It was the last thing Jughead expected her to say—something he never expected her to say, if he was being honest—and he blinked in surprise but liked to think he recovered pretty quickly.

“So blue, huh?” he smirked, watching her face go through different levels of scarlet crimson red and stages of mortification. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

“That’s not what I meant to say,” Betty whispered, wincing as she lowered her hands enough for the words to be audible. “I meant…I—oh my god,” Betty moaned and this time she hid her entire face behind her palms this time. Jughead couldn’t help but laugh at the sight of her, and reluctantly he reached out to pry her hands away.

“Hey, come on,” he urged, his voice full of laughter. “Don’t get all embarrassed on me now.” Betty shook her head and refused to let her face show. “For what it’s worth, I think your eyes are the best green I’ve ever seen.” There was a pause on Betty’s part, and then she opened her fingers wide enough to peek through. She looked so adorable that Jughead had to laugh to refrain from kissing her. She looked dubious. “They are!” Jughead insisted with a chuckle. “They’re this…apple green that lights up when you smile, and they’re sort of like a forest, sometimes, with little flecks of gold like sunlight…” he realized he was rambling, and stopped himself, fighting down a blush.

The most embarrassing speech of his life, however, had the desirable result, seeing as Betty took her hands away from her face and looked up at him. She was so close, he only had to lean in slightly to press his lips against her. The shadows of the sunlight danced on her features, highlighting her long nose and hugging her rosy cheeks. He wondered how her breath would feel on his face—had to use all his self-control not to lean in and find out.

“What?” Betty asked in an adorable voice that was a half laugh, half a complaint. She tilted her head and looked up at him from between her lashes, and she was biting her lip again, and Jughead could feel the last of his resolve shimmer away with the light wind around them. “What?”

He brought his hands up to cup her cheeks and pulled her to him—finally, _finally_ —crashing his lips against hers. Betty made a small noise of surprise in his mouth, but she didn’t pull away and pushed him off her, yelling. Instead, she kissed him back with the same fervor, fisting her hands on his shirt. He had imagined kissing Betty Cooper many times, more than he ever cared to count.

The real thing was infinitely better.

There was no angel choir, or earth-shattering realizations, just the soft press of her lips against his, almost shy; and the rest of the world just tuned out.

Betty tasted like strawberries as much as she smelled of them—or maybe that had been his imaginative brain supplying something solid for the amazing smell that was now surrounding him, but he found he didn’t care. He thought she might even taste like cinnamon, a little bit, but it was _Betty_ , and that was the best taste in the whole world. He pulled away reluctantly, heaving a shattering sigh despite himself, and rested his forehead against hers.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he breathed without opening his eyes.

“I may have an idea,” Betty replied, her breath tickling his skin, and Jughead sighed again before he opened his eyes. His hands had lowered to cup her neck loosely, and he trailed his thumb over her cheek, looking anywhere but her eyes, drinking her in.

“This is real, right?” he asked, and his voice sounded small and so traitorously hopeful. “It’s not all some kind of dream?”

“Well,” Betty said, forcing his eyes back to hers with only the sound of her voice, “unless we’re watching the same dream then I’d say it’s real.” Her eyes were shining.

“Good,” Jughead replied, and kissed her again. This time, Betty reached up to throw her hands around his neck; so similar to the hug she had given him only a few minutes before, and yet so fundamentally different. Jughead caught hold of her waist and pulled her against him until he could feel the weight of her on his chest, exploring the new territory Betty was freely handing him. She reached her hands up to fiddle with the hair at the base of his neck and then trailed them upwards, running her fingers through his black curls, and his breath hitched slightly.

Distantly, as if in a dream, Jughead figured his crown beanie must have fallen, but the feeling of Betty’s hands in its place was so much better, and he couldn’t find a single cell in him that wanted to complain. When they pulled away again, Jughead kept his hands exactly where they were hooked around her waist, unwilling to let go of her even for a second. He left a feather kiss on Betty’s nose, and she giggled.

“So…” he drawled, fighting against the grin that was threatening to take over all his face. Betty had a small smile of her own as she used one hand to cup his cheek.

“Your eyes are so blue,” she repeated, but this time her face glowed with happiness instead of mortification.

“Is that a good or a bad thing, Betty Cooper?” he repeated his previous question as well.

“That is the best thing, Jughead Jones,” Betty mirrored the huge unstoppable grin he felt on his face, before she chased his lips with hers again.

And it felt like for the first time in his life he could finally breathe.


End file.
